When Winter Came
by Hiiro-No-Ame
Summary: Bucky's got a long road to finding himself, but maybe there's someone who cares enough to walk that road with him. BucyxOC


The jarring, tinkle of breaking glass tore AnaSofía's eyes from her microscope painfully quick. She swore in a rapid stretch of Spanish when she saw how much glass was spread across the pristine floor next to her, dark eyes turned up to give her partner an exasperated look, before pushing brown curls out of her face and grabbing a broom.

"How many went this time chico?"

He shot her a mortified look from behind owlish round glasses that covered half of his face, straggles of blonde hair fell into his brown eyes and he looked at the floor like it had done him a great personal wrong, "Three."

She handed him the broom and watched him sweep timidly, trying his best to ignore the pointed glares being fired his way from their coworkers. Ana turned and leveled the most ferocious look she could muster, keeping it in place until they all turned their eyes back to their respective projects. The lower levels of Stark Industries were a competitive and cutthroat place, to be honest she usually felt out of place with her tan skin and dark colouring, especially when she worked in a sea of white cookie cutters. She wasn't as bad off as William though, the kid was a walking disaster and usually managed to break an upwards of five things every time he walked by. He was brilliant though, and if she was in a good mood Ana would even admit to him almost being smarter than she was. _Almost_.

She helped him clean up carefully a large part of her unwilling to leave him to handle everything on his own. She'd taken him under her wing the day he'd started; he was so naive and eager to please that she couldn't help but think of how she'd been as a child. Even though she was younger than him-26 to his 29- she was the one that lead him around and kept him going.

"You should clock out," he looked at her from over his rims, "you know they don't like it when you stay overtime."

"They just don't want to pay me extra," Ana picked up shards gingerly, stubbornly ignoring the bitterness that welled up inside her. She had three P. in various areas of science, but their supervisor had recently made it very clear that he didn't see a Mexican girl getting anywhere with the company. Never mind that Ana had never set foot on Mexican soil. She was born and bred American, but everyone seemed to assume she was right off the boat because of her skin and her ability to speak Spanish. Imagine that, someone knowing two languages, who would have thought?

"He's retiring soon, you'll get your chance to work at the top," Will gave her an encouraging smile; "just you wait."

Ana felt a worn smile stretch her lips, she knew it would never happen, but Will's optimism helped her hope. "Ahh cariño," she threw all the shards in the trash and kissed his cheek laughing as a bright red blush spread across his face and masked the slight lipstick stain she had left on his pale skin, "you say the nicest things." She grabbed her bag and clocked out, only pausing to wave goodbye before walking out of the building. She gave a friendly wave to the security guard who snuck her cookies every Monday as she walked out the doors.

Her heels clicked quietly as she walked down bustling streets into what passed as night in New York City. Bustling crowds pulled her in until she was nothing more than another splash of colour in a forever moving world. Honestly New York was a great place for her, no one really gave a damn who you were, or where you were from when you walked down the crowded streets, as long as you didn't step on their feet or spill their coffee you were invisible.

She headed farther and farther away from the bustling streets, into neighborhoods with crumbling walls and seedy apartments. The rhythmic clicking of her heels sped up, and she kept her hand in her purse and the other holding her keys outward. She knew her way around the area, was friendly with her neighbors and really no one here was that bad, but at night everything seemed sinister in a city with no eyes; she wasn't taking any chances, and if worse came to worse she'd bash some bastardos brains in with her heel so help her God. Papi had always told her that if anyone tried to give her hell raise a little hell of her own, and she knew her parents worried constantly about her living by herself so far away while they lived and worked in California.

Brown eyes searched the area cautiously as she walked; she could see the door to her little town house a few feet in front of her and unconsciously sped up. A crash of sound came from the alley next to her and she jumped back heart pounding painfully as she stared down the dark alley trying to make out something concrete in the swirling shadows leading sinisterly into the alley.

" ¡Mierda!"

The streetlight behind her was doing a piss poor job of lighting up the street in her opinion, and she was about to head to her house when the groaning started. It was quiet and short like someone had lost their breath and couldn't quite manage to call out. She looked down the street nervously and could practically see tumble weeds for how deserted it was. She hesitantly walked toward the alley, because she obviously had no common sense. She could practically hear her mamásquawking in her ear about dangerous situations and staying away from them. She pulled out her phone and turned the weak little flashlight on scanning the ground around her as she stepped deeper into the alley.

"Hello?"

Groaning answered her and she walked toward the sound anxiously; she really was going to get herself killed one day. She caught faint movement out of the corner of her eye and spun to face a man propped against the dirty brick wall. Her flashlight glinted off a puddle of dark liquid sitting near him and his black clothing had the wrinkled look of wet fabric. Stringy hair fell into his pale face and clear green eyes stared at her with a hard expression. Really this guy didn't look inviting, and he had such an aura of "fuck off" around him that she found herself involuntarily taking a couple steps back.

The man made a lurch as if he had wanted to move toward her, then let out another low groan and slumped back against the wall with a pained grimace. She moved toward him guardedly watching him for any sign of jumping at her. Brown eyes roved over him trying to find an obvious sign of a wound.

"Are you ok?" She was proud that her voice only betrayed the faintest hint of a tremor, and she kept herself from moving back when his hard eyes fell on her once more. It took her a moment to realize that he was watching her just as cautiously as she was watching him. She took a step closer and watched him tense up minutely, not enough to threaten, but enough to be ready should _she _turn out to be a threat. Ana help up her hands passively, trying to convey the idea that she was in no way shape or form a threat.

"I just want to help."

Green eyes stared at her with no real recognition of the words, but when she stepped forward he didn't flinch away. Ana kneeled a couple feet in front of him, close enough to see the rough stubble decorating his face, and the dark shadows under haunted eyes. His eyes followed her movements carefully, but lost their threatening edge. He seemed to realize that her impressive 5'7 heeled ass wasn't much of a threat. She reached toward him slowly and his hand snatched her wrist in a bruising grip, hard enough that she could feel the delicate bone in her wrist grind together. She cried out reflexively and tried to pull away but his damn hand _wouldn't budge_. She looked down and her heart nearly burst out of her chest when she realized that the hand holding onto her was made of _fucking metal_.

Green eyes widened and he snatched his hand back, she watched him flex his fingers with a confused look like he couldn't figure out why he'd hurt her. Her eyes traveled up his flexing fingers and found that his entire arm to the shoulder was made of plated metal; the only decoration was a red star. Ana knew _exactly_ who this guy was. The Winter Soldier. Tony Stark had given the speech to the entire company about this guy and how Captain America was looking for him. They'd been instructed to contact Mr. Stark directly if they ever caught wind of this guy.

Her hand twitched for her phone, but something stopped her and she stared at him for a few moments, before deciding she wasn't calling anyone until she made sure he wasn't bleeding to death or something equally unpleasant. She told herself she'd call when she'd helped him, _promised_ herself she'd call Mr. Stark.

"Look," green eyes met hers cautiously, "my house is literally five feet away. If I take you inside," for some reason she didn't have any warning bells going off about this dumb ass plan, "you promise not to kill me or something equally unpleasant?"He didn't answer her, or even acknowledge that he understood her, and after a couple minuets she was ready t give up and go inside, because she _really_ didn't have time for this shit and she wasn't too fond of kneeling in dark alleys with shady men.

"да."

His hoarse voice reached her ears and she sat back on her heels trying to figure out what language he just whispered at her. The best she could do was place it s eastern European. They hadn't been told anything besides dangerous at the debriefing, so for all she knew this guy could be the long lost kid of a king from Norway.

"¿qué?" The Spanish slipped from her lips naturally, and he gave her an equally confused look which caused a smile to spread across her face slowly. Obviously they were going to confuse the hell out of each other if they didn't stick to English….If he even spoke English. "Sorry, I said what. I don't know what language you spoke, and do you even speak English?"

He gave her a curt nod before moving to stand in front of her. Ana craned her neck to look up at his towering form, he looked a bit more sinister this way; looking down at her with cold green eyes straggly hair falling into his face shading it from view. She stared at him for a while and was surprised to hell and back when he held out his non robotic arm in the "let me help you up" gesture. She took it gingerly, still wary of this…well villain. He pulled her up carefully, and looked at her expectantly, and it took her a moment of staring at him like an idiot to remember that she'd told him she'd help. Feeling like a twit, she walked toward her house, and could hear his heavy steps falling behind her. She paused for a slight second, then opened her door carefully and stepped inside with him.

He followed her to her kitchen quietly, green eyes roving around constantly. Ana got the feeling that he was looking for possible escape routes. She motioned for him to sit on one of her mismatched kitchen chairs while she pulled down her battered little first aid kit from on top of the refrigerator. Green eyes watched her every move, and she tried not to let it unnerve her as she pulled out bandages and a little tube of Neosporin.

"I'm," her voice cracked a bit and she could have sworn there was a smirk in his eyes, like he knew exactly how nervous she was and was enjoying her discomfort. Dick. "I'm going to clean off your cuts and get the blood off you, but I need you to pull your hair back and take your shirt off." She handed him a hair band, and he took it with his non-metal arm and pulled his stringy brown locks up out of his face, which only served to highlight the intense green eyes staring at her, his shirt came off with a barely audible groan and he looked at her expectantly as her brown eyes roved over him looking for injuries.

"Alright," Ana walked to the sink and wet a rag with hot water, mentally gearing herself as she walked back. She ran the cloth over his chest gently, screaming to herself that dirty blood crusted villains were not attractive in the slightest and that her father confessor was going to have a field day if she didn't get her thoughts back in line.

She took her time washing him off carefully, checking for any sign of a really bad cut, or any breaks. She'd briefly had a stint in med school before realizing that she couldn't deal with all the chaos and switched to her first P.H.D in chemistry; which was a controlled chaos that she could deal with. Every time she looked up his green eyes were glued directly to her, and she could almost feel the weight of his gaze.  
"You have a name?"

He gave her a look that broke her heart a little, he looked surprised as hell, like his name was obviously of so little importance that there was no real reason she would be asking for it, and really villain or not that was depressing. She was slowly realizing just how bad of an idea helping him was, she'd been around him for all of 10 minutes and she was already becoming unwilling to turn him in. He looked like a kicked puppy.

"My name is AnaSofía. You can just call me Ana though, everyone but my parents call me Ana." She smiled at the confused scrunch of his nose at her name, "I'm Mexican, so I have a Mexican name. AnaSofía Gutierrez. Mi mamá named me after mi tía," she was talking absently now, cleaning the dirt and blood off him while words poured from her, "Only mi mamá y mi papi call me AnaSofía though." The mix of Spanish and English wasn't much of an accident anymore, she just couldn't helped but think he looked a hell of a lot less menacing with a confused look on his face. She'd managed to clean off his upper body by the time he actually spoke to her.

"Alecksandr."

It took her a few moments to catch what the mumbled accented…whatever language he spoke meant, "That's your name?"

He nodded slowly, and almost like he was taking after her example, added, "Sasha is what I am called."

"Sasha…" she smiled warmly and felt practically giddy at the brief twitch of his lips she received in return. She grasped his chin gently and began washing the grime from his face carefully, "I'll call you Sasha then," she finished and looked him over curiously, "you don't have any real wounds. Just some scrapes."

"I heal quickly," green eyes followed her slowly and his normal hand reached out to grab her hand softly, she winced when the movement jolted her hurt wrist and he checked it over carefully, "you however do not." Warm fingers ran over the slight bruising before releasing her as carefully as he'd grabbed her.

"No," she pulled out a chair and sat knee to knee with him, "I don't." She watched his metal arm carefully and was surprised to see it twitch every now and then, almost like it was broken. "You want me to fix that for you?"

Surprise crossed his face again, and she couldn't help but wonder why this super assassin was so…expressive, "Can you?"

"I can try," she pulled the metal arm toward her, wary of the fingers, and examined it carefully, "I mean there's no guarantee, but I can give it a shot." She waited for a confirming nod before getting up to find her tool box, she kicked her heels off along the way and ended up changing into a pair of rolled up sweats and a tank top before finding the stupid tools hidden under the bathroom sink while she took her contacts out and pulled her glasses on.

He didn't even look surprised when she sat back in front of him, practically a different person and began working on his arm slowly. It was honestly a pain in the ass; whoever built the stupid thing had over complicated everything about it, because really who needed this much crap to function an arm? Ana swore at it often in Spanish, resolutely ignoring the raised eye brow she got every time she did. It seemed like a universal rule that no matter what language you swore in, everyone knew it was swearing.

"There," she threw her tools back into their prison and watched him flex his hand a couple of times looking pleased. He moved his arm slowly, watched the metal plates flex and move in tandem with each other, Ana would admit to being transfixed as well. There was something mesmerizing about the metal glinting in the dim light of her house. She held out her arm to him, and watched, only slightly tense, as his arm stretched toward her and metal fingers wrapped around her hand in a normal grip. The cool metal sent a small jolt through her, and his fingers danced along her hand carefully, like he was comparing them in his head. She couldn't keep the satisfied smile off her face.

"I fixed it."

Sasha inclined his head in acknowledgement, and then curled his fingers around the wrist he had bruised early. They fell into a heavy silence, and it seemed like he was trying to apologize, his fingers cool and heavy on one hand and warm and calloused on the other rubbed her wrist gently, checked for injuries. When his inspection was over he pulled a long strip of gauze out of the small first aid kit she had used early and then began to wrap her wrist with practiced ease.

"I'm fine you know," she fancied that she could see the edges of his mouth quirk up, as if to disagree with her. "I've had worse happen to me before, and you did it on accident so…" she shrugged her hands and when she looked up his cool eyes were full of something akin to murder. He looked at her questioningly, like he wanted to know who had ever messed with her to begin with.

"It was a while ago," she watched him relax fractionally and she looked at him seriously, "I'm fine now, but if you every do something like this on purpose, I will bury you." She honestly expected him to laugh, because what could she really do against the Winter Soldier. Surprisingly he only nodded solemnly, as if he agreed with that insane statement.

She smiled a bit and they sat in an easy silence for a while, his fingers running over her wrist and her eyes roving over him. She only pulled away when she couldn't contain a yawn anymore. Ana stood up and gathered some pillows. "You wanna crash here? My couch is free," she started piling up pillows and blankets on the couch anyway, "and it's actually really comfy so you won't hurt your back or anything."

Sasha walked over silently and took the blankets from her hands gently, "**Спас****и****бо." **

Ana smiled tiredly and didn't bother to have him translate, she knew gratitude when she heard it, "You're welcome. I'm just down the hall if you need me…I guess," his lips quirked again and she decided to take that as acceptance, "Hey Sasha?"

"да?"

"Could you," she twisted her shirt in her fingers a bit nervously, "if you decide to leave could you…tell me?" what was she doing, this guy was the Winter fucking Soldier and she was asking him to tell her if he _left_? "Just so I don't…worry, you know?" she was officially the biggest idiot in the world, one does not simply ask super villains to tell them if they plan to leave. Ana knew she should be reporting him to Tony Stark, but she really didn't have it in her, and if he hadn't killed her yet then he probably wouldn't.

Warm fingers brushed her face and she looked up into cool, green eyes as he brushed a stray curl from her face and nodded seriously, "I will tell you."

Ana couldn't help but smile, before pulling back and walking to her room contently. She continently chose to ignore just how warm her face felt where his fingers had touched her. Evil villain indeed.

* * *

(A/N): I know a lot of people use Yasha for the Winter Soldier's Russian name but I decided against that. There's apparently a lot of ethnic connotation behind that name that would make it really odd for Soviet Soldiers to use that name for their big bad super weapon. I also didn't want to use the translation of James, because I feel like they wouldn't want him to have anything that connected him to his past, or even something that could humanize him. I chose Alecksandr because it's a pretty common name and I think Sasha as a diminutive is cute. I also don't remember the Winter Soldier ever being called by a name in the comics so I felt like the name was free game.


End file.
